The Difference
by Begonias
Summary: There's a difference between being a father and being a dad. Yet another reason why Sam has always showed such defiance to John.


**A/N:** Forgive me, but I am feeling particularly angsty tonight. Maybe it's due to the fact that I injured my leg last night riding a bicycle so I've done nothing all day except watch really early episodes of SPN. That must be the reason. I hope you enjoy. Also, I guess this is a Teenchester.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Supernatural_, it owns me.

* * *

**"The Difference"**

**by Begonias**

* * *

There's a difference between being a father and being a dad.

Sure, the words mean basically the same thing in their honest definitions, but there are many important differences that seperate a father from a dad.

* * *

"You need a haircut," my dad tells me. "Your hair's getting out of control."

I nod, agreeing, because even though I don't want (or need, really) a haircut, it's easiest to just say yes. To not piss him off. That's something I've learned from Dean over the years. I suppose that's why he's always been the favorite.

"Okay."

Dad decided this morning that it's time for us to leave Michigan. I guess he finished the hunt and has found another one.

So we shove into the Impala again, and I find myself almost having to blink back tears. Leaving behind friends is always hard. You'd think I'd be used to by now, but honestly, it seems to get harder as I get older. Maybe I should be like Dean - he never gets attached. I really learn a lot from him.

Leaving behind my friend Aidan will be difficult, but I'll get over it. Just like I always have to.

But leaving makes me moody. God, I can't help it, but I question things. Despite the fact that I'm really not up-to-date on a lot of normal ... safer life styles, I know that this is not how a dad should raise their kids.

I question Dad's reasons. I - of course - understand what Dad wants: to kill whatever took my mom. I know I'll never truly understand that pain he has, because I never knew my mom like Dad - or even Dean - did.

But I can't help but think: Is it really that important to you, that you put this sick obsession over your own children? That you lug them across the country, thrusting them into this lifestyle?

A father is a person who supplies his kids with their basic needs - food, water, shelter, clothes.

A dad is someone who is there for their kids - to be there to talk to, to allow them to speak about their problems without fear of being judged.

I hate what my father has become. An overly-obsessed, driven bastard. Isn't it more important to care about Mary's children than about her, now that she's gone? Because she's gone, and she won't ever come back. I doubt this is what Mom would want for us.

And, God, I miss her. Not that I really knew her in the first place. But ... she seems to have been so wonderful. Man, I really missed out. I wonder what she would say if she saw us like how we are today.

Would she be mad? Would she be disappointed in us? In Dad?

And I hate what's happened to Dean. He really didn't deserve this. I've been such a burden on him; it's my fault he's never gotten a childhood, and it isn't fair. It isn't fair that someone so young should have such a weight on their shoulders, and I hate that I have to be that weight. I hate that my father has done this.

A dad is the one who holds you in infancy, tells you, "It's okay, champ", hugs you when you cry, cheers you on at your soccer games.

But all I can think is, it was _Dean_ who did these things. _Dean_ was the one who has been the only constant. He's the only person I can 100 percent trust. Hell, I took my first steps toward him as a baby.

I see other kids my age whose dads do the things every dad should. And it causes me to wonder what things would be like if Mom never died.

"Where are we going?" I ask, though I don't know why, because it doesn't really matter where we're going. I've lost track of how many schools I've been to this year.

"Why does it matter?" my dad snaps back.

"I'd just like to know."

Dean bites his lip in that way that shows that he's only slightly nervous that something is going to go down - he knows we may break into a fight. And there is another thing I hate.

I don't mean to fight with him ... it's just that my dad always took questions as means of disrespect, when in actuality, I was trying to gain more understanding. But I stopped doing that long ago. It's difficult to try to understand someone when they don't even try to reciprocate.

"Madison, Wisconsin. Signs of a possible skinwalker."

"Great," I huff on an exhale.

"You have something you wanna say, Sammy?" He looks knowingly at me from the front seat. Some part of me tells me to shut up. Screams it actually, because Dad is already testy today and I'm probably just pushing his buttons.

So I listen to that part of me. "No."

I close my bleary eyes and rest against the fogged glass of the window.

* * *

We drive for a while longer, then Dad decides to drive into a motel for the night. We're all exhausted, and staying in a hotel is like a blessing. I hate sleeping in the car.

"Sam, carry the bags in while Dean and I sign in. Make sure you make salt lines 'round the doors."

"Yes, sir," I mumble, but I am struck with a sudden thought. Why should this man have the right to tell me what to do, when he's never done anything for me? This man didn't raise me. He's never done the things a father is supposed to.

My brother Dean got that right. He's more of a dad to me than anyone in the world.

* * *

I blame my father for a lot of things when maybe I should be blaming myself. After all, it's my fault that Dean has had to sacrifice so much, and I hate myself for always having to be in the way. Constantly bringing things down. 'Cause I'm not as good of a hunter as Dean, definitely not as good of a son as him either - Dad has made both of those points incredibly clear.

John Winchester may be my father but he's never going to be my dad.

* * *

**_FIN_**


End file.
